


Are You Calm, Settle Down

by Cesare



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bullying, M/M, Pre-Slash, Underage Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-17
Updated: 2012-02-17
Packaged: 2017-10-31 07:40:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cesare/pseuds/Cesare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This isn't going the way he pictured it at all. He thought Charles would try to grab the book and maybe they'd wrestle a little, and then Erik would return it and muss up Charles's hair and get to see him blush.</p><p>There's a blush on Charles's face, but there's also a set, mulish expression taking hold. It's not how Erik wanted Charles to look at him. He's not sure what he wanted, but it wasn't this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Are You Calm, Settle Down

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Happy Valentine's Tuesday](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/6910) by nieniekoto. 



"Give that back!" says Charles, his face going pink.

"Make me," Erik holds up the book out of his reach. Charles has to be at least six inches shorter, he'll have to practically climb Erik to get his book.

Charles doesn't try for it, though. He pushes his glasses up his nose, his mouth folding into a frown. "Why did you take it in the first place? You don't want to read it." He suddenly looks hopeful. "Do you?"

"No," Erik says, and regrets it when Charles looks bewildered.

"Then give it back, please."

"No," Erik scowls. This isn't going the way he pictured it at all. He thought Charles would try to grab the book and maybe they'd wrestle a little, and then Erik would return it and muss up Charles's hair and get to see him blush.

There's a blush on Charles's face, but there's also a set, mulish expression taking hold. It's not how Erik wanted Charles to look at him. He's not sure what he wanted, but it wasn't this.

"If you don't want it, and you won't give it back, what will you do with it?"

"Maybe I'll drop it in the stream," says Erik. It runs behind the school, barely more than a trickle, but there's a footbridge. Erik crosses it every day.

"Why would you ruin a book for no reason?" Charles asks, and Erik's not sure how his face changes, but it makes Charles clutch his other books to his chest and lean back; then it makes him square his shoulders and stand his ground. "If you won't give it back, I'm going to follow you until you throw it out."

"Fine." Erik turns to go to his last class for the day. He's sure Charles is bluffing. He won't skip class, not to just wait outside in the hall while Erik suffers through a lesson on Great Expectations.

He's half right. Charles goes up to Mrs. Ingram and says, "I lost my notes from class earlier today. I have study hall this period; could I sit in to write them up again?"

"Of course," says the teacher, and of course Erik's seat is in the back, and of course Charles takes the empty seat just behind and to the right of him, and of course Erik feels Charles watching him for the entire hour. When the bell rings, all Erik remembers from the entire class is that Mrs. Havisham is old.

Charles follows him silently from English class to Erik's locker, down the hallway past the band room, out the doors, across the parking lot, through the field alongside the track, all the way to the footbridge.

"Please don't throw it in," he says when Erik steps onto the bridge, and Erik doesn't want to-- never did-- but he's uncertain now and he hates it. Almost enough to do it anyway. Almost.

Erik keeps thinking Charles will turn away when he realizes the direction Erik is headed, the neighborhood he goes home to, but when he gets to his aunt's house, Charles is still six paces behind him.

He should drop the book. Drop the book and Charles will go away... and he'll probably never speak to Erik again, after Erik bullied him. It wasn't what Erik meant to do. They're not really friends, but hardly anyone ever talks to Erik. Some days Charles is the only person who does.

It's just that Charles makes him angry-- in a different way from the way Erik's always angry at everyone else. Charles isn't one of the popular kids, but people like him. He's from a family everyone around here seems to know and he has an interesting accent, and he dresses well and he gets the best grades, and he seems to have an infinite supply of everything that anyone could conceivably ask him for-- gum and candy, pens and pencils, paper and paper clips, travel tissues, safety pins.

He's also small and maybe likes boys-- anyway, people say so-- and maybe it's that or maybe it's something else, but Charles makes himself narrow when he travels the halls, ducks out of everyone's way, sidles and smiles and acts like he's always apologizing a little for not being like everybody else. Like he's not a better, smarter, nicer person than any of them.

Erik goes into the house and shuts the door. "Hello, Erik," his aunt says, and "You're home early." He is; usually he hangs around for a while after school. It's not that he hates it here. His aunt and uncle are all right. The neighborhood is rundown, but friendly. It's just that coming home to this house every day like normal makes this home, it means everything's different now.

When he looks out the front window, Charles is standing on the walk. He'll have to give up soon, though.

But he doesn't. After a couple of minutes, while Erik's collecting chips in the kitchen to take up to his room, the doorbell rings, and his aunt answers.

"Hello," Charles says to her sunnily. "Is Erik home?" as if he doesn't know, and Aunt Rachel exclaims how nice it is that he's come over and hurries him inside and offers him juice, and looks about half a second from pinching his cheek the whole time.

"You boys have fun studying," she says-- Charles must have given her some story, an excuse to be here. Erik didn't hear, he was too busy trying to sink through the floor. And then she bustles out, and they're alone, and Charles just waits.

Erik gets his backpack, rifles through it, finds the stupid book and holds it out.

"Thank you," Charles takes it back and looks at Erik expectantly. "Where's your room?"

They go upstairs. Erik's room used to be a home office. There's still a huge desk. The best thing is the big window that looks out on some trees, but that also makes it cold in here. Erik has extra blankets, a lot more than he's ever slept under before, and a space heater that clicks when it turns on and when it shuts off.

"Are those finches?" Charles looks out the window curiously and turns back to Erik, shoving his glasses up again. "Did you put up the birdhouse?"

"Yes," Erik says. "I'm sorry."

Charles smiles at him. "I know."


End file.
